


I'll let my darlin' take me there

by fruitcakes



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Song fic, just the tiniest bit of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-05 01:16:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11567280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fruitcakes/pseuds/fruitcakes
Summary: The rain sprays their arms and faces, and the house creaks and moans around them. It's a temporary little haven, but Wonwoo will take it.And then he'll go.





	I'll let my darlin' take me there

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this song: [If I go, I'm Goin'](https://youtu.be/q3gnxO8bUxQ)
> 
> Big big thank you to Salma (ao3 icebaby) for betaing. You're the best ma <3

It's stormy, rain lashing against the windows and the walls, a racket in the sky. The winds rustle the leaves of the trees outside, and the house shudders, like it always does, at every flash of thunder.

The floorboards creak, uneasy, underneath his feet as Wonwoo climbs the old staircase. He knows which boards are the loudest and he jumps over them, careful to not disturb the silence.

The door to the bedroom opens softly, and he pads in, bare feet against wooden floors. There are sheets littered at the foot of the bed, clothes piled in corners, rain soaking the carpet where the window is left open and one lone figure huddled under his purple blanket, perched on the arm chair at the far end.

Wonwoo approaches and gingerly tugs at the blanket. “I thought you were getting better,” he says softly, kneeling down as Soonyoung’s eyes flutter open.

“I lied,” he replies. He struggles a little, squirms, till his hands come out from the blanket and reach for Wonwoo's. Their fingers tangle together in the folds of the blanket, and it feels the same as it always does.

“Come to bed,” Wonwoo says.

“No,” because that's the default answer Soonyoung has ready on the tip of his tongue. Wonwoo knows old habits die hard, but this defiance, he doesn't think will ever die.

He leans his head on Soonyoung’s lap, as the chill from the floor wraps around him. Summer nights have no business being cold, yet here they are, making Wonwoo shiver.

“Come to bed,” he says again. And because he can, he pulls their joined hands closer and bites on Soonyoung’s thumb.

“No.”

He sighs.

Soonyoung and his abrasive, unbudging personality tires Wonwoo out sometimes. He's reminded of the delinquent that was dumped on him by virtue of his reputation as a ‘good kid.’ And how, for the longest time, all he did was watch Soonyoung get into fight after fight, invite trouble with everything he did—and didn't do. It got exhausting, eventually, to have to take him back home and patch him up because _Wonwoo, you should take care of him, he's your friend._

So he implored Soonyoung to stop, to think twice before a jab or a punch. It all fell on deaf ears of course, just like his request now.

“I’m tired, Soonyoung. Come to bed,” he says as he stands, their hands falling apart. Soonyoung looks up at him, the high points of his cheeks highlighted by the yellow ceiling lights.

And then they tumble into bed, half their limbs hanging off the edge and tangling in the blanket. Soonyoung's chin is hooked on his shoulder, their only point of contact.

It got real old real quick, having Soonyoung disregard him. So Wonwoo figured, _can't take the fight from the kid, so take the kid from the fight,_ and glued himself to Soonyoung's side. He went everywhere with him, took him along everywhere, and made Soonyoung do things he had never even dreamed of doing. Like reading a whole book, or taking a walk with no intention.

All Wonwoo wanted was to see Soonyoung’s knuckles clean and unbruised, never thought of having them brush against his cheekbones gently in a way that feels unreal. He only ever wanted to see Soonyoung's lips uncut and healed, never intended to have them for his own.

Wonwoo likes to think he has tamed Soonyoung, but there's things he can't change—his haystack of blonde hair, the _No_ and _this_. This fear of storms that has settled deep into his bones, and makes him shake with every rumble of the clouds.

He flinches when the thunder strikes and shivers when the wind blows with long drawn out sighs. Wonwoo pulls away from Soonyoung’s neck to kiss him, only as a distraction, but Soonyoung pulls away.

Wonwoo falls back against the pillow, sighing at the boy’s juvenile behaviour. He always wants everything on his own terms. “Soonyoung,” Wonwoo says, sounding more exhausted than he is, “I don't want to go.”

He hopes, strongly, that the break in his voice near the end is masked by the way the house groans when the wind hits stronger. But Soonyoung can feel it, the way he can feel Wonwoo’s intricate lattice of emotions.

“You'll be fine,” Soonyoung sighs softly.

It's been weeks of this—complaints and uncertainty and insecurity and it's a wonder that Soonyoung's patience hasn't yet run all out.

“Plus if you don't go, what will you ever do with this?” Soonyoung points at the shelf way above the bed. From their vantage point, they can't see what rests atop but Wonwoo _knows_. It's years of dreaming, of building castles in clouds of spare change, puddles of copper in his own wishing well.

“Ice cream. I'll buy you ice cream,” he says, with a smile.

Soonyoung merely laughs and for a second, he slips and looks a little adoring.

“Don't make me go.”

 _Childish, childish_ , Wonwoo scolds himself. It's not Soonyoung making him go, it's his own passion, his own hunger for _more_. But like everyone else, he resists change.

Soonyoung laughs. “How can I…” and here something wistful creeps into his tone, eyes drooping and demeanour softening as he moves in closer. He does it in a way he expects to be imperceptible, but Wonwoo feels every little shift in his chest, anticipation building like a tower as he moves closer. “How can I when you belong there, with all the talented, intelligent, like-minded overachievers?” Soonyoung says. It's a low blow but the delivery is gentle as ever.

Wonwoo can't resist anymore. A rustle of sheets and one leap of faith, he hugs Soonyoung. It's sudden and there’s no time to pull away, to push away, and Soonyoung melts before he can feel it happening.

“I belong here,” Wonwoo whispers into Soonyoung's shoulder.

“Here? In this house that makes weird noises all night and keeps you up?” Soonyoung teases. He's lying there, letting himself be embraced but not reciprocating.

Wonwoo gently shakes his head and sighs, breath brushing across clammy skin. “Here,” he says and squeezes his arm.

Every bit of resistance absconds Soonyoung's body and he wraps his arms around Wonwoo’s waist and pulls him close, their bodies aligned from hair to ankles.

“Right here,” Wonwoo repeats, voice sounding frayed around the edges.

The rain sprays their arms and faces, and the house creaks and moans around them. It's a temporary little haven, but Wonwoo will take it. And then he'll go. He'll let Soonyoung send him off and leave him behind with his pig-head and his fear of storms.

Wonwoo remembers all the nickels in the jar, and momentarily wishes he'd wished for something else.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm aware that at this point I'm basically using ao3 is my personal journal and that entails posting a lot of shit one shots but eh. Tell me what you thought anyways!! 
> 
> P.S I'm also aware that it's actually can't take the kid from the fight, take the fight from the kid. But eh.


End file.
